Indestructible
by Loki's Cheesecake
Summary: "You lied to me, Mycroft. You weren't indestructible."


**Authors' Notes: Hey guys! OneCutePug and I are back again with a little one shot for you guys! We acually came up with this idea from our other story, Promise Me, so you should check that one out as well! OneCutePug says hope you like this one and please review!**

**DESCLAIMER: As much as we both would love to own anything that has to do with Sherlock, we don't own anything. Tears**.

It's raining. The drops rolling down the windows remind John of tears, and he absently wonders who's the one doing all the crying up there in Heaven.

He wonders if it's Mycroft, but then again, the 'Iceman' would never show any form of emotion to anyone, not even Sherlock.

And Sherlock was the exact same way. No matter how much John had coaxed and pleaded Sherlock to open up about Mycroft's death, to tell John how he was taking it, he would refuse, say he's fine, then change the conversation.  
And John, being the supportive, good friend he is, sighs and goes along with it. For the time being, at least.

The cab slowly pulls to a stop at the cemetery, and John flips up the hood on his coat, pays the cabbie, and steps out besides Sherlock. The rain is pouring, and yet the genius doesn't seem to mind it.

All that matters to him is seeing his big brother's grave. After all, one cannot grieve in private at a funeral, now can they?

As they begin their walk to the grave, the rain begins to soak Sherlock's hair, and his curls stick flatly down to his forehead. John has to suppress a chuckle or two at how silly it makes the detective look.

He can't giggle because it's a cemetery. If only it were a crime scene...

They approach the grave, and John takes a moment to make sure it is held to the elder brother's descriptions in his will.  
Mycroft's grave consists of a simple, steel grey headstone, inscribed plainly with his name in bold letters. John has to blink several times to block out the image of SHERLOCK HOLMES on a similar headstone from coming to mind.

That was three years ago.

Sherlock doesn't say anything; he just stands there, somewhat awkwardly. John assumes Sherlock doesn't know that he DID notice all of the sidelong glances the detective had given him, and yet he couldn't have been more wrong.  
The silence is almost overpowering, and John almost feels like he's being suffocated by the eerie quiet, and finally he can't take it anymore.

"You were always kidnapping me."Sherlock briefly meets John's gaze, but tears his gaze with a tiny nod. "And I can't begin to describe to you how much I always hated it." John chuckles awkwardly, shifting his feet in the mud they're both standing in. "And, er, the very first time you kidnapped me, I uh, well, I couldn't help but think you were Moriarty."

Sherlock gives him a sharp look, but otherwise lets him continue on with his monologue.

"But I think we all know now that wasn't the case." A half-smile that drops as soon as it appeared. "I'm sorry, Mycroft."

John clears his throat, and turns towards his friend. "I'm, uh, going back to the cab. Take as long as you want." He won't make eye-contact unless Sherlock enforces it.

"Thank you," Sherlock says simply. He nods and turns back to the headstone, obviously dismissing the blonde somewhat politely. John waits for another moment in case there is anything else needed before turning and walking back down the path they just came.

Sherlock waits until John is just far enough away before giving a half-smile at the grave, although this one betrays the emotion he truly feels.

"Mycroft, Mycroft, Mycroft. Look at this mess you've made."

Nothing happens. It wasn't like he was expecting his older brother to respond anyways.

"I always thought you were indestructible. Turns out I was wrong."

FLASHBACK-  
_"Ew, Sherlock! Use a tissue!" Mycroft gripes as the little boy wipes his snotty nose on his uniform.  
_

_"But it's too far away, My!" Sherlock complains.  
Sherlock had been sick with the bloody flu for over a week now.  
It was the 3rd time this year.  
_

_"Looks like its gonna be one of those years," Mycroft thinks, shaking his head slightly.  
_

_"My, get me some water." Sherlock demands, holding out his little hands expectantly.  
_

_"PLEASE. We don't demand things, Lock." Mycroft scolds.  
A sigh. "PLEASE," Sherlock grumbles.  
_

_"There you go!" Mycroft hands Sherlock his glass, and the boy takes a gulp.  
_

_"It's not fair; you never get sick!" Sherlock whines.  
_

_"I don't roll on the dirt all day, for one." Mycroft states, rolling his eyes.  
_

_"I don't roll in the dirt. I was experimenting. You're just indestructible." Sherlock argues, crossing his arms defiantly.  
_

_Mycroft opens his mouth to correct him, but instead sighs and shakes his head.  
"Yes, that's right. I'm indestructible, Sherlock." He says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.  
_

_The sarcasm flies straight over the little boy's head.  
"Wow! Mycroft, that's so cool! I wanna be indestructible, just like you!_

END FLASHBACK-

"You lied to me, Mycroft. You weren't indestructible."

ANOTHER FLASHBACK-

_Mycroft dabs at Sherlock's bloody nose with care, doing his best to not cause his little brother to wince. He doesn't remember kids being this cruel. Especially with a small, fragile, kid like Sherlock. But then again, he had always been good with people. Sherlock was always sick, never at school._

_Just because he's a little different._

END FLASHBACK-

"You were always looking out for me."

FLASHBACK-

*BAM!*

_Down goes another of Sherlock's bullies. Mycroft had tried to be civilized, but when this puny kid started charging at him he couldn't help but push him down with a quick, calculated punch to the temple.  
_

_Not even a scratch on himself._

END OF FLASHBACK-

"It's like you didn't even try and life was still handed to you on a silver plate."

FLASHBACK-

_Mycroft gets off the hook after that punch to that stupid kid Anderson.  
"I hope he learned his lesson." He says. "Don't mess with my brother."  
_

_Sherlock, on the other hand, gets sent home with a disciplinary slip and a black eye. All because he jumped a kid for touching his stupid, stuffed bumble bee._

END OF FLASHBACK-

"Anthea misses you." He states. "She won't admit it, but I think she's visiting us now because we're her last connection to you."

Silence.

"I remember when you first met her."

FLASHBACK-

_"My, who's that girl you were walking home with?" _

_Mycroft has to stifle a sigh as little Sherlock bounds up to him with his books clutched carefully. "She's pretty!"  
_

_The little boy turns and waves at her, and she giggles and waves back, especially to Mycroft, and he hesitantly waves in return with a small smile.  
_

_"Her name is Anthea, Lock." Mycroft smiles, and Sherlock looks at him curiously.  
_

_"You... Like her, don't you?" Big blue eyes twinkle with mischief, and the elder's cheeks tinge with red.  
_

_"No, I don't! She's just a friend, Sherlock!"  
_

_"MYCROFT AND ANTHEA SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carr-"  
_

_**"**SHERLOCK SHERRINFORD HOLMES!"_

END FLASHBACK-

Sherlock looks away from the grave. "I never got to thank you, did I?" Sherlock chuckles. "As if you'd expect me to say it now. Although I do suppose they are in order, and yet John is here to make me say them."

He sticks his nose up proudly and smirks, then nods once more.

"Thank you, Mycroft. For everything."


End file.
